Red Midnight
by Lokun
Summary: Harry thought that with Umbridge as teacher and Voldemort back, this year couldn't possibly become any worse. But those problems fades away when his scar is suddenly reacting in a way it never has done before.//Contains blood, angst and... Severus Snape.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there!  
This story is simply based by a faint idea that I once had, and felt like to write down for my own amusement. I never had any intention to share it, I just had a desperate need to get it out of my head to prevent me from going slightly more insane than I'm already is. However, my sister read it (with or without my permission doesn't matter) and have _nagged_ on me to put it up here for _months_!  
Now, I can finally have some peace. ^^ I'm not expecting anyone to actually like this fanfic. My sis has a weird taste... And secondly, I'm quite confident that no one even will read it. 3 Since there are more HP fanfics here than there are fishies in the sea. :)  
I'm gonna stop whining now. XD If you for some miraculous reason managed to find this and is planning to read; bless you. ;) If you're _not_ planing to read it; You are a more sane person that I've ever been.**

**This takes place during Harry's fifth year on Hogwarts, and before the attack on Arthur Weasley.  
No slash whatsoever. It's written by a person who just likes to see Snape and Harry interacting. It's like watching a cat and a fox staring at each other. The outcome can be anything, but it never ends very romantically...**

**And if anyone would be uncertain: No, I do NOT own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. Or is it Warner Bothers? I'm not really sure anymore... I just know that it isn't me. ^^**

* * *

As Harry left after Filch's detention, with his scar aching more than earlier, he immediately headed to the Gryffindor tower. The clock was just past 11, and he didn't doubt a second that Filch would actually try to come after him and punish him for running around in the corridors after curfew. Even if it _was_ because of Filch's detention that he was out this late in the first place. Harry just wanted to safely get back to his bed and sleep away the increasing pain in his scar.  
He quickly ran up to the fat lady and told her "ginger beer" and then crawled through the opening to the Gryffindor's Tower.

Harry found Hermione and Ron in the Gryffindor's common room waiting for him. He noticed a group of third year students that were just about to head to their bedrooms, and soon the common room was left empty. Hermione looked up when she heard Harry and smiled welcoming, but Ron looked deeply troubled and didn't seem to notice Harry at all. Hermione gave Harry a meaning look and Harry knew exactly what the problem was.  
The day's lesson in transfiguration hadn't gone very well for Ron. And it had only made it worse when McGonagall later had warned them about an upcoming test on evolving transfigurations that she expected everyone that wanted to get an O.W.L in her subject to pass. Unfortunately, turning caterpillars to butterflies had proven _ridiculously_ difficult, and no one other than Hermione had managed to do it completely right.  
Harry sat down next to Ron, just as his friend fell back to his couch, looking deeply depressed.

- I'm not gonna make it! Ron groaned. – There's no way that I'm going to pass that test. You saw me! I was terrible!

- Oh come on, Ron, you're overacting. As usual… Hermione sighed without looking up from her book about "Magical metamorphism". – It's just like in quidditch. You got the potential, but you just have to _believe_ in yourself.

- Hermione… did you actually _see_ what happened to my caterpillar…? Ron asked. – Because, it's a wonder if you didn't... Since it was about 2 feet high and almost ate your backpack…

- It could have been worse. Hermione tried cheerfully. – Seamus accidentally killed his caterpillar, remember? And not even McGonagall could figure out how Neville managed to make those weird tentacles grow out from his…

- I've never managed to do a size controlling spell before. Ron whined, not listening to Hermione. – Why did it have to work _now_? I wasn't even trying! I don't think I've ever heard so many girls scream at the same time before...

Hermione sighed and returned to her book.

- You just have to practice. That's the only way to get better. Right Harry?

Harry was rubbing his forehead, looking troubled and Hermione looked at him with a confused face

- What is it Harry? She asked.

- Nothing… Harry lied and quickly removed his hand.

- Is it your scar? I can see that you…

- It usually hurt now and then. There's no big deal. Harry interrupted. He did not want to give Hermione another reason to scold him for not taking the occlumency lessons serious, or that he was making himself vulnerable to Voldemort. – There's nothing strange with it. It'll go away.

- Or cheating…! Ron suddenly exclaimed smiling, obviously not paying attention to Harry's and Hermione's conversation. – Hermione! You can drink a polyjuice elixir with my hair in it, and then you can take the test in my place!

- You don't seriously think that I would even _considering_ doing that, do you? Hermione replied deadpan, not looking up from her book. – And I have to do that test too, you know.

- I just figured that since _your_ grades in transfiguration already are as high as they can get, it won't be affected if you miss one tiny, little test… Ron said defensively with his arms crossed.

- Oh, just drop it Ron. Hermione said annoyed, closing the book with a loud "bam". – It didn't go very well for Harry either in that class… Oh, sorry Harry. I didn't mean that you were _bad_ at the transfiguration. Just that…

- … That his caterpillar evolved into a parsnip? Ron laughed so hard that he almost fell out of his couch, making Crookshanks give him an annoyed look, very much like Hermione's, and leave to find a quieter place to sleep.

Harry wasn't laughing. His left hand was rubbing his forehead again, trying to make the pain in the scar to go down. Hermione gave him an examining look.

- What's wrong Harry? She asked and Ron suddenly stopped laughing, now to see what was going on.

Harry didn't answer. The scar had hurt ever since the occlumency lesson with Snape almost 6 hours ago and the pain had only grown worse.

- It's ok. Harry answered; trying to sound like normal. – I'm fine.

- You don't _look_ that fine… Hermione said, eyeing him suspiciously.

- No wonder. Ron said. – Snape is still making you miserable at the occlumency lessons, isn't he?

- Ron, I thought we had discussed that. Hermione said irritated.

- I still think that Snape's lessons only make him worse. Ron stated stubbornly.

- Well, I'm sure that it's supposed to feel a bit sore afterwards. Hermione said, sounding much like her younger self.

- Really? And when did _you_ become an expert on scars caused by the Avada kedavra curse?

- Stop being silly, Ron. Hermione replied with a little angry blush in her face. - I'm going to bed, and I think that you should too Harry. You'll see that it feels better tomorrow.

Hermione left her couch and started to walk away from them, not noticing the grimace Ron made behind her back. But then he got up from his chair too, heading to the boys dormitory. He walked a few steps, but stopped when he noticed that Harry wasn't following him.

- Are you coming? Ron asked.

Harry wasn't able to hide it anymore. He shut his eyes hard when the pain rose to a new peak and he buried his face in both his hands.

- Harry, what is it? Ron asked and walked back to him. Hermione had stopped half way to the girl's room and looked at them both in confusion.

- It's ok… Harry managed to answer, but it wasn't true. The pain in his scar was now a hammering sharp one. It felt like if someone was stabbing his forehead with a pike.

- Are you sure…? Ron asked uncertainly.

- I… Harry panted and could feel his shirt getting soaked in his own sweat. His scar was burning under his hands. It felt very hot. Was he getting a fever…?

- Harry, you look sick. Ron said taking a closer look at Harry. – Bloody hell... What on earth did Filch make you do? Eat flobberworms?

Harry didn't answer. In fact, he felt too weak to talk at all. He got to his feet, panting like if he had been running. Maybe Hermione was right? Maybe he just needed some sleep and eventually it would go away? The room was spinning a little, which kinda worried him though…

- Harry, here. Ron said dead serious and held up his left hand. – How many fingers can you see?

Suddenly, a knife pierced Harry's scar. The sudden pain made him scream out loud and then he collapsed on the floor. He curled together on the ground, trembling and clutching his arms around his head in a desperate attempt to make the pain go away. Hermione immediately rushed down the stairs towards them, while Ron was trying to help Harry up in a sitting position.

- Harry! Hermione screamed and kneeled beside him. – What happened?!

Harry couldn't answer. He had to use all his strength to not scream again, and couldn't bring himself to even open his mouth. He shut his eyes hard as he felt the pain growing to a new climax.

- Harry! Hermione called out again looking worried.

- Come on! Let's get him to the hospital wing. Ron said.

- No, we can't! Hermione replied, trying to get a closer look at Harry who was still trembling on the floor in agony. – It's his scar. What do you think Madame Pomfrey can do about it? We need Dumbledore or at least McGonagall. Someone from the order. They should have a better idea what to do. One of us has to stay with him while the other gets help.

- Do you really think it's such a good idea to leave him here…? Ron asked, nodding to the dormitories. – What if anyone wakes up?

- Oh no, you're right… Hermione admitted and looked anxiously at Harry. – Harry, do you think that you can walk? The teacher's lounge isn't that far a…

Hermione suddenly went quiet and starred at Harry with a face turning pale.

- Oh my god… She said with a low voice looking at him in shock. – Harry… You… you are bleeding.

- What!? Ron said and looked at Harry's face with a frightened expression.

Harry felt something sticky between his fingers. His hands were still clutching his forehead, but he had thought it was his sweat. Ron looked very similar to when he had met Aragog in the forbidden forest, his face was white as a sheet and simply terrified. Harry forced himself to remove one of his hands, and then looked down at it. It was covered in something red which looked very much like blood.

- Hermione…! Said Ron and looked at Hermione in desperation.

- Hang on. Hermione replied quickly.

She flipped her wand in a fast and complicated pattern and made a compress and a small bottle of some unknown liquid magically appear in thin air. She soaked the compress with the liquid and pressed it to Harry's forehead.

- Here. She said. - Press this against the bleeding. It will decrease it, and I think that's the best we can do for now. The sooner we get to the teacher's room, the better.

Harry took it and did what she told him to. The compress didn't help the slightest against the pain, but at least it stopped his blood from dripping all over the floor. The pain in the scar were now fluctuating from almost bearable, to hurting as like someone were cutting it with a sharp heated dagger.  
He suddenly felt Ron taking Harry's unoccupied arm and drag him up to his feet.

- Do you think that you can walk? Ron asked while still holding on to Harry's right arm to keep him up.

Harry couldn't concentrate on anything. The pain was staggering and made it hard to focus. He tried to let go of Ron and managed, though very unsteady, to stand up by his own strength. But as soon he was even thinking of trying to take a step, the glowing pain hit him like a bus and he lost his balance immediately. Fortunately, Ron was prepared for it and caught Harry before he hit the floor. He took Harry's right arm again and put it around his neck to steady him. The pain was temporarily fading to an aching drumming in Harry's head, making him feel a bit numb.

Ron led him to the portrait hole and Hermione opened it so that they could sneak out, unfortunately waking up the fat lady again. She began to loudly complain about lack of respect and the young peoples treatment of the elderly, and so on. Almost making Mrs Black's portrait in Grimmauld place number 12 seem rather enjoyable.

- Oh, shut it! Hermione replied with an annoyed tone and turned around after one or two meters pointing her wand at the fat lady. – _Silencio_!

The corridor went peacefully quiet and though the fat lady's lips were moving hysterically, no sound was heard from her.  
Both Ron and Harry stared at Hermione. Harry was so surprised over her action that he for one moment forgot about the crucifying pain his scar was causing him, and simply looked at her in astonishment.

- Come on! She said frustrated. – We have to hurry, remember?

- Hermione, since when are you hexing paintings…? Ron asked looking back at the Fat Lady who now, at the lack of vocabulary, expressed her feelings by doing very rude gesticulations at them.

- Ron, we _really_ don't need her to catch Filch's attention right now. Hermione replied. – That was the best solution I could come up with…

- I'm not complaining! Ron said quickly. – I'm just not that used with you using magic in the corridors. Since it's against the rules I mean…

- Oh come on! We're not even supposed to _be_ in the corridors this late. Hermione said. – But the important thing is that we get Harry to professor McGonagall as quickly as possible! Hurry up!

Hermione ran to the right corridor and turned on to face Ron who still looked a bit perplexed.

- I _mean_ it! Said Hermione with an angry look at Ron. - Have you any idea how serious this could be? Follow me.

Hermione turned around again and started to walk away in a high pace. Ron helped Harry to lean on him so that could get the balance to walk, and then they followed her.  
The pain in his scar made Harry loose track of time. It felt like they were walking the corridor forever, and he were starting to get trouble keeping himself upright. He had to force himself to not give in for the pain that was trashing his head, and concentrate on keeping himself conscious. And even though it already was hurting like ten thousands needles, Harry could feel that the pain in his scar was, once again, growing.

- Over there! Hurry up, we're almost there now. Hermione suddenly said.

They had finally reached the right corridor. And luckily, they hadn't even encountered Peeves or anyone else that could possible bother them.  
Harry's breathing was getting heavier and he tried to focus on anything but the aching scar that was now making it really difficult for him to stand.

- Hold on there Harry. Ron said with a low voice, noticing the sudden change in Harry's behaviour.

- There's the door! Hermione announced and pointed about 15 meters ahead. – We just… Oh no, _Harry_!

Harry's feet couldn't bear him anymore and he felt how he unexpectedly fell to the floor. Ron managed to catch him right before hitting the hard ground and he dragged Harry up in a sitting position. Ron kneeled beside him.

- Harry! What is it? Ron said, looking worried.

At one moment, all Harry could feel was a strange numbness. It was like all the pain had suddenly been drained from him. Disappeared.  
The feeling lasted for a split second.

Then, without warning, it felt like something ripped his head apart. The pain was excruciating. Something that sliced his head into two pieces, a glowing pain he had never encountered in his whole life. He wanted to scream out loud but couldn't. He dropped the bloody tissue when he once again clutched his forehead with both his hands, desperate trying to make the pain go away.

- Hermione! Ron shouted to Hermione who was just about to rush towards them. – Knock on the door! Get someone out here!

Harry felt how Ron took a grip of his waist and started to drag him away. But it wasn't that easy, since the torturing pain made Harry twitch and curl, not being able to control himself. Hermione was at the door and knocked several times, looking stressed. Ron managed to move Harry to a spot about one and a half meters from the door and leaned him against the wall, still in a sitting position.

Harry was still burying his head in his hands and could feel the sticky blood underneath them. He shut his eyes close, wishing that it all would just disappear. That something could make it go away. He felt helpless, like if he was drowning. There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop this...

- Don't worry Harry. Ron said and gave Harry's shoulder a reassuring pat. – McGonagall knows how to fix this. No doubt about it. And if she can't, Dumbledore will know for sure! Just hang in there…

- Open up! Hermione told the closed door with an angry look. – Please! We really need to talk to professor McGonagall! It's important!

Hermione was just about to knock again when the door finally opened. And through the painful hammering in Harry's head, he could still recognise the scornful voice of the man he hated so much…

- Well, isn't it Miss Granger. Said Snape, with a voice drenched with sarcasm. – And very early to class I see. Since it's at least 7 hours left until students are allowed to leave their dormitories…

- Oh, professor… Hermione said looking fairly frightened at the sight of Snape's figure in the doorway.

Even though Snape actually, despite how hard Harry and Ron furiously chose to deny it, _was_ a member of the order, he was hardly the right person to ask for help in the middle of the night. Not even if the castle was on fire. Maybe if the three of them happened to belong in the dungeons and wore ties in silver and green. But they didn't. And Harry strongly doubted that Snape would treat him any different at all if he had followed the sorting hat's advice and chosen Slytherin that day 5 years ago.

- We have to speak with professor McGonagall. Ron said and walked towards Snape, looking irritated. – Is she here?

- Weasley, though an understandable misunderstanding considering your intellect, I must inform you that the teachers do _not_ sleep in the teachers lounge. We _do_ have our own bedrooms.

- But _is_ professor McGonagall in there at the moment? Ron asked and apparently held back a very rude reply.

- I think I was implying that all teachers has gone to bed. Snape sneered. – I am the last one to leave this room. You two, on the contrary, appear _not_ to be in your beds. Even though the rules clearly says that only teachers can be out in the corridors after curfew, while students can not.

- Professor, it's really important. Hermione said with a pleading voice.

- I'm sure it must be. Snape smiled. – Since you seem so happy to get detention for its sake. Not to mention sacrificing so many of Gryffindor's precious points. I'm sure the reason must be very admirable. I only hope that your friends in Gryffindor will agree with you… Let's see, how many points to be withdrawn for breaking the curfew…

_- We don't care_! Both Ron and Hermione yelled at once, looking angry at Snape for not letting them come to the point.

- … 150 points will be drawn from Gryffindor, for walking in the corridors at night. Said Snape and smiled scornfully, obviously having a great time. - 50 points from each of you. And yes, I assume that since _you_ two are up late, Potter can't be very far away either.

Snape, whose concentration had only been focused on Hermione and Ron until now, moved his eyes to the corridor to locate the third scoundrel, and his gaze immediately fell upon Harry.  
Harry was still sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, both his hands clutching his head trying to decrease the pain. Every minute was a living hell and he just wished that something, anything, could end it. That something could stop the piercing feeling of something slicing his head into tiny pieces. Snape looked at Harry with a face that was absolutely impossible to read. He started to calmly walk towards him, Ron and Hermione not far behind.

- It's a bit complicated, sir… Hermione begun, looking a little uneasy. – I think it would be better if we called for professor McGonagall or Dumbledore...

- Well, it's about Harry. Ron interrupted.

_- Obviously_... Snape muttered with a slightly sardonic tone, but his expression was indifferent as he stopped in front of Harry to take a look at him.

Under normal circumstances, Harry would immediately get on his feet, declare that he was fit as a fiddle, and then get so far away from Snape that he never had to hear his mocking voice again. Because Harry dearly _hated_ his Potion Teacher, and wanted as little contact with him as possible. But the scar was hurting so much that he didn't even care about Snape's presence. He clinched his teeth hard together, and his muscles were so tense that his body was shivering. Why wouldn't it stop? He couldn't take it much longer… The excruciating pain overwhelmed him and threatened to drive him mad. Harry came to think of Neville's parents that had been tortured into insanity…  
He could feel that Snape was staring at his forehead.

- Remove your hands, Potter. Snape said demanding

No. Harry did _not_ want to remove his hands! Not for Snape, not for anyone! It felt like if he did, the pain would rise again. Somehow, he was convinced that pressing his hands against the scar was the only thing that kept it manageable.

- I mean it, Potter. Snape said with a calm strict voice. – If you don't do as I say, I can easily make you. Whether you like it or not.

Snape held out his wand in a threatening gesture to prove his point. Harry didn't have a choice. He could either do it by his own free will, or Snape could force him. And he knew what he preferred.  
He regained control over his shivering body, took a deep breath, and forced his hands to let go of his forehead. The feeling was like letting go off a safe rope. He had to concentrate hard to not let his hands immediately fling up to the scar again.  
Snape had a serious expression on his face when he took a closer look at Harry's scar that was still bleeding lightly.

Harry didn't like this sudden attention. But he couldn't deny that Snape probably was skilful enough to have an idea what to do. And Harry was in such desperate need of someone that could make this agonising feeling go away, that he for once did not see Snape as an enemy.  
When Snape had studied the scar in half a minute he turned to Ron and Hermione.

- Tell me when this started. Snape said with a calm voice.

- He… He was complaining about the scar about... Maybe 20 minutes ago... Hermione stammered. – It started to bleed a couple a minutes after that...

- Can you help him or not? Ron asked angrily.

Snape raised an eyebrow and gave Ron a scornful look.

- Has it occurred to you, Mr Weasley, that this is obviously not an ordinary affliction?

- What's that suppose to mean? Ron asked with a glare.

- It means, no. I can not help him.

- Then what the heck _can_ we do?! Ron said angrily, seemingly restraining an urge to punch Snape for not being to any help.

- You two? Most likely nothing. Snape replied calmly. – I, on the other hand, will take Potter to my office and see if I have anything that can possibly… _alleviate_ this problem…

Harry didn't like the sound of any of that. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to be alone with _Snape_, and he most certainly didn't want to be alone with Snape in Snape's office while Snape tried to "alleviate" whatever it was that caused him this pain.

- What…? Ron said agitated but Hermione cut him off.

- So… You _do_ know how to help him? Hermione asked.

- I thought that I just told you that I _don't_, Miss Granger. Snape answered with a glare. – However, as a teacher I'm afraid that I am obliged to do whatever I _can_ for Potter, even if it's beyond my power. Not to mention _will.._. But, if you really _do_ want to be helpful, you might as well go and inform professor McGonagall about this.

- We don't know where her room is. Ron said.

- Oh, I'm sure that Miss Granger knows… Snape mumbled and made a few spots of blood on the floor disappear with his wand.

Ron opened his mouth to say something but noticed that Hermione blushed slightly, and thus confirming Snape's assumption.  
Harry made a sudden inhale. He could now feel how the pain was building again. It would rise to a new peak, and Harry didn't know how he would manage it this time. He couldn't take much more of this…

- However… Potter, you're coming with me. Snape repeated. – You, Weasley, might just as well go back to your bed.

- No way. Ron stated, as a simple fact.

- Miss Granger apparently doesn't need a guide to professor McGonagall's room, and _I_ rather not have more than _one_ student to concentrate on at the moment.

- I'm not leaving him. Ron said stubbornly.

Harry truly appreciated Ron at that moment. He really did not want to be alone in Snape's office in the middle of the night, and wished that at least Ron could come with him.

- Your presence is not required… Snape muttered annoyed.

- It is! Ron said. – Harry can hardly stand on his own, less even walk! How is he…?

Ron went immediately quiet when Snape pulled out his wand again. But Snape completely ignored Ron's words and instead focused his eyes on Harry. He pointed a bony finger at Harry's forehead and then pressed it against his scar.

Harry flinched at the touch. It was through pure willpower that he managed to keep control over his arms, and not let them fling up to his forehead again. The excruciating pain that overwhelmed him the second Snape's finger made contact to his skin caused Harry to tremble. He gritted his teeth to prevent himself from scream in agony.

Snape completely ignored Harry's reaction and had now started to wave his wand in a complicated pattern while muttering something, his finger still touching Harry's forehead. Harry tried not to move, but was inches away from starting to trashing around on the floor due to the raising pain. The effort made his body shiver, bhe had no choice. If he didn't sit still, Snape would surely _make_ him still, and Harry refused to allow Snape to have anymore power over him than he already had. He wanted this to be over with. He just wished that Snape would remove his hand! Why was he doing this? It hurt! How could something that was supposed to help him hurt so much?  
Eventually Snape suddenly stopped the charm and pointed his wand directly at Harry's scar.

_- Abeodolor._ Harry heard him said.

He then withdrew his finger and Harry felt a strange numbing feeling spread from his scar and through his whole body. The numbness turned into a strange tingling sensation, and then suddenly the pain was gone. Like if it had never been there.  
Harry looked up at Ron and Hermione whom both stared back at him in surprise. He fumbled his hand over his forehead. The scar wasn't bleeding anymore.

- Wha… What did you…? Harry asked with an unsteady voice.

- I temporarily repressed the pain. Snape explained indifferently and got to his feet, without looking at Harry. – This is a charm that can, in the most cases, relieve any kind of pain that is not caused by strong curses. It can also, if used effective enough, even reduce the effect of the Crucio curse.

Harry shook his head to clear it a little, and shared a disbelieving look with Ron. Was Snape trying to teach them Defence against Dark Arts right now…?

- And… Snape continued as his gaze landed on Hermione. – I must say that I am utterly surprised to see that Miss Granger, the ever so cleverest student in her grade, didn't think of using that to help Potter…?

- I didn't… Well, it _did_ cross my mind. Hermione said a bit uncertain, like if it was a question about an error she'd done on a test. – But I thought that it wouldn't work since Harry's scar is technically caused by the Avada kedavra curse, which…

- Which of course should count as a stronger curse, yes, we all know that. Snape interrupted. – But even so, it is not _designed_ to cause any pain. To our knowledge, all victims die completely unharmed and without any suffering at all. Therefore, there is no reason why this particular spell wouldn't work.

- That spell is _horrible_ tricky to make right! Hermione defended herself, slightly angered. – One tiny mistake and it could have the reverse effect. I was a bit upset that moment… I wouldn't have dared to use it on Harry even if I had _known_ that it would work. I…

- So you decided to look for professor McGonagall instead... Snape cut her off calmly. – But in that case… Snape gave Hermione a scornful look. – May I ask _why_ you are not already on your way to her room as we speak…?

Hermione blushed slightly. She gave Harry a "don't worry it's gonna be fine" glance before she dashed away through the hallway.

- Now, Weasley. Return to your dormitory, or I _will_ withdraw points from Gryffindor's house.

- … Does that mean that you're not planning to take those 150 points from before…? Ron asked sheepishly.

- Leave. Snape said coldly. – And as I told you before, the effect of the spell is only _temporarily_. It will soon wear off, and I would appreciate to not be in the corridor when that happens.

Harry felt a split feeling… He wanted Ron's company, but if Snape and Ron kept arguing for much longer the pain in the scar would probably be back soon, and Harry wasn't very keen on letting Snape touch his forehead again… He quickly got to his feet.

- It's okay Ron. He said, but not sounding too convincing. – I'll be fine. Really.

Ron looked very doubtful to leave Harry in the not very trustful hands of Severus Snape, but seemed to give in and gave Harry a reassuring pat on the shoulder before he left. Harry felt an anxious feeling as he realised that he was now alone.

Snape didn't wait another second and started to walk down the hallway, Harry quickly following him.

He wondered how long it would take for Hermione to get McGonagall. Harry didn't know where her bedroom was either, but hopefully not too far away. He wished that he didn't have to stay in Snape's office for long... The jars on the shelves with various contents of creepy ingredients had always had a slightly unsettled feeling on him and his stomach.

Harry started to feel worried about exactly _what_ Snape was planning to do to him. As the school's potion teacher, there were practically no doubt about what kind of solutions he probably had in mind. The jars on the shelves popped up in Harry's head again and he gave away an involuntary shiver.

This didn't feel good…

And since Snape wasn't very fond of Harry (Harry found it easier to imagine Filch and Peeves happily married, than a friendship between him and Snape) he didn't doubt a second that the professor would gladly choose the most uncomfortable and malicious way to "help" him. Harry's steps became heavier and he looked miserably down at the floor as they now passed the statue of a fat wizard with hideous skin rash, which meant that there was half the way left to the dungeons.

- Now, Potter, I want you to tell me _exactly_ when your scar began to hurt.

- Ehm… Harry hesitated; not sure if he wanted to admit that it actually had hurt on and off ever since the occlumency session, which had been several hours ago. – I don't really remember.

- I see. Snape said calmly. – Well, a useless memory would indeed explain your lack of progress in my potion classes. Snape said mockingly. – Do you rather want _me_ to look inside your head and find it out myself?

- No, sir. Harry said irritated. If he told him the truth, Snape would probably rant about how weak Harry was. – A couple of hours ago, I think. Is it really that important?

- I will decide that when I get a proper _answer_, Potter. Snape responded with a cold glance at Harry. – I will repeat the question for you; when _exactly_ did your scar start to hurt?

- Harry felt something building inside of him, though this time it wasn't pain, but anger.

- About eight hours ago… Harry mumbled.

That was the time when the lesson had ended, but maybe Snape wouldn't make that connection. Unfortunately, when Harry looked up, he caught a typical Snape-glare directed at him. Filled with a mixture of coldness and annoyance.

- I will understand it as that you didn't learn much from today's occlumency lesson either... Snape exclaimed ironically. – How surprising.

- How can you say that? Harry asked annoyed. – What makes you think that just because my scar hurts after every session; it means that I'm not _learning_ anything?

- It means that you let me into your mind. You didn't shield yourself and emptied your head. Those are the exact things that you are supposed to learn. Evidently, you are _not_ learning.

- And how is that related to this problem? Harry asked aggravated. – How can the fact that I'm not "learning" anything cause my scar to start bleeding!

- It does not necessary have anything to do with our sessions, Potter. The pain related to the _bleeding_ might have started later, but was concealed by the pain from the occlumency lesson. Snape said calmly and gave Harry a scornful look. – How easy it would have been to find it out if you had been a better student, Potter.

"Or if you had been a better teacher" Harry thought for himself. He wanted to say it out load, but he decided that considering where they were heading, it would be unwise to give Snape any other reason to make Harry's life miserable. And he felt too tired to deal with an angry Snape anyway…

- I can assure you, that I do not find our sessions the slightest more enjoyable than you do, Potter. Snape continued.

"I think it's more enjoyable to penetrate someone's memories then trying to _stop_ someone from doing it" Harry thought, still determined to not talk out loud.

The closer they got to their destination, the less did Harry look forward to enter his professor's office. It made him feel a cold uneasy feeling in his stomach. But the sensation was soon replaced by something else. A growing aching feeling in his scar…

- I must say that compared to the occlumency lessons, your skills in potion class appears almost impressive. Snape said with a grin. – And since your grades in _that_ particular subject are close to "Troll", it's quite an achievement for you to manage to be even worse in something else.

Harry suddenly stopped and leaned against the wall, slightly panting. Snape walked several steps before noticing that Harry wasn't following him, and turned around to look at him

- What, Potter? He asked demanding.

- N… Nothing. Harry lied.

- Nothing? Snape asked and frowned. Harry didn't answer and Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously. - Shall I assume that the reason for your stop is caused by severe exhaustion due to walking 500 meters…?

- Yes. Harry said with a stubborn glare at Snape, who raised an eyebrow.

Harry had no intention whatsoever to admit that his scar was hurting again. And no matter how much Harry wanted the pain to go away, he _really_ didn't want Snape to use that charm on him again… The pain wasn't that bad yet.  
Snape was still eyeing him cautiously. Harry let go off the wall and tried to look as normal as possible.

- You are a terrible liar, Potter. Snape said calmly, like he was telling Harry that he had done badly on a test. – You should add that to your increasing list of things you are useless at. Now, answer me again. What is it?

- There's nothing, sir. Harry answered truthfully.

- Potter. I know that you will do most likely anything to be excused from visiting my office. Snape said scornfully. – Even if it means to delay us much as you can by answering my questions with complete nonsense.

Harry blinked in disbelief. Was Snape accusing him for faking this just to slow them down…? It would have been a good idea, but the fact was that Harry hadn't tried to fake anything at all. It _had_ hurt, but only temporarily. The pain was almost completely gone now…

- I'm not trying to delay anything, sir. Harry said.

- And not listening, are you Potter? Snape said with a mocking smile. – Not much improvement there after four years. I would appreciate if you could tell me the truth instead.

- Sir. Harry said a bit louder. – I'm _fine_.

Snape's eyes were fixed upon Harry who didn't move an inch.

- Very well… Snape said with a smile that Harry had learned to watch out for over the years. – Maybe if I put it this way; If you don't…

But then, Snape suddenly went quiet and looked at Harry with an uncertain look. He lowered his face closer to Harry who instinctively moved a couple of steps away from him.

- Sir…? Harry asked. - What is it…?

Harry then felt something sticky trail down above his right eye. He stroked his right hand over his forehead and looked at it. Red.

- It… Harry wasn't sure what to say. – It's probably nothing, professor. It doesn't hurt, or…

But at that particular moment, Harry felt how something in his scar cut through his head and an unbearable pain overwhelmed his whole body. Thousands of knives stabbed his forehead at once. It felt worse than ever. He clutched both his hands over his scar and staggered a couple of step backwards, hitting his back hard against the stonewall.

Harry had shut his eyes immediately and couldn't see Snape or anything else around him. He was trashing about on the floor desperately trying to make the pain go away. He thought he could hear his name from somewhere, but couldn't tell for sure. The scar hurt so much that it was temporarily making him deaf to anything around him.

Harry felt a numbing feeling taking over his head. A feeling that dragged him far away from the pain and everything else.

He had a vague feeling that he fainted.

* * *

**Thank you if you've read this far. ^^ I wasn't really planning on writing a second chapter, but I might have one in mind if anyone would want me to continue... ^^;  
And any constructive critic is welcome!! As you might have noticed, English is not my first language, so if there are any misspellings, gramatical errors, or sentences that could be different... Please tell me! It will help me improve and make my english teacher proud of me! 3**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay then! ;D  
****First of all, I want to thank you amazing people who liked this story. And a special thanks to you who have commented it so far. Cookies to everyone! :D  
****And also a thanks to Pepper_glass for your suggestion about the dialogues. I was thinking of changing them, since it got really tedious to write like this:****  
****- I like pie. Ginny said.  
****(this doesn't looks as good here as it does in Microsoft Word...)  
****So from now on, it gonna be:  
****"I like pie." Ginny said. ^^**

**Ok, since I wasn't actually planning a second chapter, this might not be the same standard as the last one. Bear with me... '-'**

*******

Harry woke up from the numbing darkness he'd been trapped in, and now re-entered the world of light. And pain.

Harry closed his eyes again and rubbed his forehead. He was aware that he had a slight headache. He was lying on the floor, and when he looked around he saw everything in a blur. His glasses had been removed.

He narrowed his eyes and tried to make something out of his surroundings, and even trough it was all a haze for him, he could still recognize Snape's office. How had Snape managed to get him here? Carried him?

Then Harry remembered two years ago when he and Sirius had passed out at the lake due to the hundreds of dementors trying to devour their souls. He had seen Snape from the other side of the lake where he had made two simple stretchers appear and used them to get Sirius, Hermione and Harry back to the castle.

Harry got up on his feet, but had to lean against the stone wall to support his balance which still wasn't in a very good shape. He tried to feel if his scar was still hurting, but it was impossible to tell due to his headache. He had probably hit his head when he passed out.

He narrowed his eyes again and looked at Snape's desk where he thought he could recognize the shape of his circle shaped glasses. He walked carefully over and picked them up. He eyed them cautiously. They looked just like normal.

Harry put his glasses on and felt relieved when he finally could see everything clearly again. He relaxed and could feel the headache ease a tiny bit. This could be the reason why he didn't hear the voices outside the door until just now.

It was Snape and a familiar female voice, and Harry felt a stabbing feeling in his stomach when he recognized professor Umbridge.

"I deeply apologize, professor. But I'm afraid that I can not help you." Snape answered calmly.

"Oh, but I think you _can_." Umbridge said and obviously tried her best to hide her frustration. "You were in the corridor with a student tonight! And I want to know _why_, and who that student was! I'm sure that you are aware that I have the right to know about any activities that are against the regulations here on Hogwarts…?"

Umbridge voice was victorious and Snape went quiet for a short moment.

"May I ask you _who_ have provided you with this so called information? Snape asked with a slightly scornful undertone.

"Peeves told me just minutes ago." Umbridge said stubbornly.

"Well, _that_ certainly make sense." Snape answered coldly. "Why on earth would the castle's one and only poltergeist wake you up in the middle of the night only to _lie_…?"

Harry could almost hear the blood rise to Umbridge face as it probably turned scarlet just now. Snape went on.

"Allow me to remind you that your trustful… _source_, for this peculiar information has a sickening fondness of creating chaos wherever he goes? I would not be surprised if he had noticed that I was awake and thought that he could _use_ you for a little nightly prank…"

"I thought that it wouldn't hurt to at least check it." Umbridge said in a superior voice. "Just to be on the safe side."

"Of course not." Snape answered softly. "But may I just ask you to not make the same mistake again? As you might have noticed, it's not only _you_ who gets bothered this way. Now, if you excuse me, I was correcting exams before your arrival, and I would like to continue with it. Good night."

Harry could hear the wooden door close and an angry muttering from the old witch on the other side. Suddenly, Snape walked in to the room and Harry hurriedly took a few steps away room the desk. The fact that he was wearing his glasses again pretty much proved that he had been there, but it just felt safer to be a few feet away from it.

Snape's eyes fell upon Harry. But the potion teacher didn't even raise an eyebrow when he saw that Harry was up and awake. He simply let his gaze fall on a bookshelf with potions and walked towards it. He began to read the description of the various kinds of bottles and then picked one.

"Sir… For how long was I unconscious?" Harry felt an urge to ask.

"Approximately 25 minutes." Snape answered and read the description through roughly. "There's a slight possibility that you have a minor concussion from the fall, but since you are conscious now and obviously can stand by your own, I can assume that you don't suffer from any _critical_ medical condition."

He turned around to Harry, holding a small bottle with an orange, yellowish liquid. It was about 5 inches tall and quite thin.

"Drink this." Snape demanded.

"That depends on what it is." Harry said with an indifferent voice.

Snape gave him a brief glare, but Harry didn't even flinch. He didn't plan to drink whatever it was just because Snape told him to. Snape was his teacher, but that didn't give him the right to make Harry do everything he wanted him to do. Harry didn't trust him enough for that…

Snape's glare eventually changed into a calm smile, with his eyes still fixed upon Harry.

"It is not in your current position to make demands, Potter." Snape said scornfully. "I would strongly suggest that you do as you are told and it will make things a lot easier. For _both_ of us, I might add."

"It would also make things easier if you simply told me what that is and what it does." Harry answered, looking directly at Snape without showing any sign of changing his mind. Snape started to look pretty mad, but seemed to silently give in.

"This is a potion that will simply tell me where the pain is located." Snape answered with dignity, as if the explanation was all on his initiative and not Harry's. "I need to be sure where it is, so that I know how to proceed after that."

"It's just my scar that hurts." Harry answered truthfully.

"By experience, I am very aware of how much I can trust you, Potter. And I'm sorry to break this to you, Potter, but your word isn't worth much to me."

"Why would I lie about this?" Harry asked agitated.

"I neither know nor care, Potter." Snape replied calmly. "I'm just considering the possibility that you _can_."

Harry couldn't deny that he had actually lied plenty of times to Snape ever since he first got to Hogwarts, and there were some logic in Snape's precaution. But to think that Harry would lie about something as serious as this was just ridiculous.

Snape held out the bottle with a strict look at Harry, and Harry realized with a sigh that despite how he felt about the whole situation, he didn't have much of a choice. Harry took the bottle and gave it a slightly suspicious look. He took a deep breath. "Ok. I'll do this as quick as possible and get it over with."

Harry poured the liquid down his throat and swallowed immediately. If the taste was horrible, then he might not have the time to feel it if he drank it fast enough.

The taste _was_ horrible.

Harry could only compare the flavor with salt, lemon, and something very, very bitter. He was happy that the bottle hadn't been bigger.

When he had swallowed the last of it, he could feel a stinging sensation spread trough his body. It felt uncomfortable, but didn't really hurt. Eventually, it seemed to gather together in one spot on Harry's forehead, most likely the scar.

Snape's eyes studied Harry's scar and then he turned around to his desk. Harry had no idea how Snape could see it, but guessed that the potion somehow made painful places to glow or something like that.

"The pain seems to only be located around the area of your scar." Snape exclaimed, like Harry hadn't already stated this fact. "I am going to look trough one of my books, Potter, and I want you to stay exactly where you…"

A knock was heard on the door and Harry felt his body freeze. If Umbridge find out that he wasn't in his bed at this hour…

What would she do to him? The blood draining quill was bad enough, but what if she got him expelled? He must come up with a good explanation. Something that didn't have to do with his scar…

Snape looked suspiciously at the door and left the book on the desk to go open it. At the door he turned around to Harry and whispered with an irritated voice.

"Potter, I am _very_ familiar with your desperate need of attention. But if you could try to not get noticed for a change, it would be much helpful for the both of us."

Harry was a bit too stressed to have time to get angry over Snape's insult right now, and therefore he took his teacher's advice and quickly hid in the corner behind a bookshelf.

When Snape opened the door Harry heard another familiar female voice.

"Don't stand in the way like that, Severus! We're neither deatheaters nor burglars, so stop blocking the entrance!"

Harry peeked out from his hiding place in time to see Professor McGonagall literally make her way pass Snape, who apparently had tried to cover the room in case it would have been Umbridge again. And to Harry's even bigger surprise, Dumbledore stepped inside right after McGonagall. Harry wondered if his scar was still any particularly visible due to the potion, and took a look at his reflection in a big green glass bottle on his left, but the scar looked just like normal.

"Good evening, Severus." Dumbledore greeted cheerfully. His eyes glanced over Snape's shoulder and immediately found Harry in the corner. Dumbledore gave him a smile and made a gesture at Harry to come out. Harry left his hiding place to join the crowd.

"Did you encounter any… trouble on the way here?" Snape asked, indicating that with "trouble" he meant Umbridge.

"We met Dolores in the hallway." Said McGonagall, pronouncing the name like it was some kind of old garbage that should have been taken out weeks ago.

"I explained to her that Minerva and I were on our way to the kitchen for a cup of tea and a night sandwich, and that she was more than welcome to join us." Dumbledore explained with a smile. "But she declined. In a not _too_ polite way, I might add."

"I would like to know what _she_ was doing up this late." McGonagall said angrily. "She seemed rather stressed over something, and she didn't even question…"

"However, that's not important to us right now." Dumbledore said kindly. "We will deal with one matter at the time, and I must say…" Dumbledore said and looked at his watch that showed half past one. "I think that we ought to start with the one that currently is keeping us up in the middle of the night."

Dumbledore turned to Harry with a smile.

"Don't worry Harry. I assure you that you will be back in your bed shortly."

"Sir, didn't Hermione come with you?" Harry asked. He had hoped that McGonagall would allow Hermione to stay up to keep Harry company and he dearly wished that he could talk to one of his friends right now.

"Miss Granger knocked on my door almost a half an hour ago. McGonagall explained. "When she told me about this, I decided it was a wise decision to get professor Dumbledore as well and I went to get him. I asked Granger to go back to the girls' dormitory. Considering the situation here on Hogwarts I didn't find it a good idea to have more than one student up after curfew, and she did as I said. But I must say that I've never heard Miss Granger use that kind of language before…

Harry raised a surprised eyebrow. He found that last thing McGonagall said very hard to imagine... He wished that he had been there to see it for himself, or that Ron had been here with him to share this moment with. He felt a slightly empty feeling in his stomach that neither of his best friends would be here with him.

"It's a great loss that some people couldn't join our little assembly this late hour; but on the other hand, it's wonderful to see that so many could show up." Dumbledore interrupted cheerfully. "Even though it is very enjoyable to meet all of you any time of the day, I think we all would prefer to be back in our beds before breakfast."

Dumbledore turned to Harry.

"We will try to solve this, Harry. Do not worry about that. But I must ask you to tell me all details of what exactly happened. If you please could do that, it would be much helpful."

Harry felt a little uncomfortable with telling everything before all three of them. He couldn't really talk as openly to McGonagall as he could with Dumbledore. And talking about it while _Snape_ was present felt as hopeless as to learn Graup to speak French.

Dumbledore must have read Harry's mind, since he turned around to Snape and McGonagall and said;

"I believe it might be best if I talked to Harry alone. I will personally inform you when we are done. I am truly sorry if it sounds like I am throwing you out from your own office, Severus. I'm afraid that my manners are not better than this. But Harry and I can of course move to another location if it bothers you? Dumbledore asked politely with a kind smile."

Snape gave Harry a brief chilly glance, but then looked at Dumbledore.

"Not at all." Snape answered nonchalantly.

And then both Snape and McGonagall left the room through another door that Harry believed led to Snape's classroom.

Harry was now alone in the office with Dumbledore, who studied a big jar that seemed to contain a greenish liquid and some sort of fur-less rat with eyes a little bit smaller than golf balls.

Well, Harry. I suppose that the _environment_ could have been a more enjoyable one. Dumbledore said and glanced at a bottle of something that definitely was 20-30 small eyeballs from an unknown animal. – I will listen to you shortly, but the atmosphere doesn't feel very settling for storytelling… I will have to change that before you start.

With a simple flick on his wand the room was suddenly lit up in a warming light, and Harry could have sworn that there hadn't been a fireplace in the office when he had woke up 20 minutes ago. Another flick with the wand and the room suddenly also had two comfortable chairs with cushions and the floor had received a rug in very sharp colors. Harry couldn't even imagine Snape's face if he entered his office and found it like this.

Dumbledore invited Harry to sit down in one of the chairs as he took one for himself.

A definite improvement I dare say. Exclaimed Dumbledore as he looked around before turning his attention to Harry. – Well, Harry. I am very sorry for the delay, but if you would be so kind to share your story with me _now_, I can guarantee that you will have my full attention. Try to be as specific as possible if you can. Since we can't know which details is important and which ones that is not.

Harry hesitated. He now realized something that he hadn't thought about before. Maybe because every day on Hogwarts contained more or less weird things happening to him, or others around him. But it was just now that Harry realized how serious this whole situation sounded.

His scar, a link to Voldemort's mind, had suddenly started to bleed heavily. And it seemed like it had started due to the occlumency session, where Harry was being taught to _defend_ his mind from Voldemort.

The whole incident suddenly started to seem frightening and dangerous.

"Whe… Where should I start?" Harry asked, not certain how to begin.

"Wherever you like." Dumbledore answered kindly and pressed his fingertips against each other with an interested look. "It's your experience, and I trust that you know better where to begin than I do."

Harry couldn't deny that. He shifted a little in his seat, trying to remember all the details that had happened this day.

He told Dumbledore how the scar had started to hurt during the occlumency session, but he had ignored it since it used to hurt a bit afterward. How it had grown worse during Filch's detention, and when he came back to Gryffindor's common room the pain had increased and the scar had unexpectedly started to bleed. Harry had some minor problems describing the time between that and when they met Snape, since he couldn't remember all of it. It seemed like some parts where completely left out from his memory, and he suspected that the pain had caused him a few blackouts.

Harry stopped when he come to the part where he had woke up in Snape's office, and then glanced at Dumbledore. He seemed unusually serious and appeared to be pondering over something.

"Does your scar hurt right now, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"No sir. Not compared to before… It's more like a… A bit of a pounding headache now. I wouldn't really call it painful…"

Harry paused and gave Dumbledore an uncertain look.

"Sir… Do you think it will happen again?"

"I'm afraid that I can't give you a satisfying answer to that." Dumbledore said and seemed to still be pondering over something. "But yes. I believe that it's highly likely that you will experience this again."

"Then... do you have any idea of how to make… If it happens again, do you know how to cure it?" Harry asked a bit hesitant, fearing what Dumbledore would answer.

"Don't worry, Harry. I'm confident that we will find away to deal with your, I can imagine, quite _troublesome_ scar. But…" Dumbledore added studying his hands with a curious look. " … What bothers me more is what exactly might have _caused_ it to act this way."

"I don't know, sir." Harry answered truthfully.

"And I don't expect you to." Dumbledore said with a kind smile. "However, I did expect _myself_ to have some knowledge about this. But I must admit that this matter is a most bewildering one, even to me."

Harry felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. If _Dumbledore_ didn't know what caused this, who did? And how would they be able to make it go away?

Dumbledore probably noticed Harry's reaction, because he leaned forward with a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing to worry about, Harry." He promised. "I might not have a simple answer, but I do have several theories. And you would be surprised over how often my theories are right."

Dumbledore left the couch and Harry did the same.

"But I must have a little talk with your teachers first." Dumbledore said. "I would prefer if you stayed here in the meantime, Harry. I promise that it won't take long."

Dumbledore headed for the door to the classroom but stopped just as his hand gripped the knob, and he turned to Harry.

"No matter how much I would like to leave you in this much more enjoyable environment, I think it would be best if we got rid of the evidence that we've done some changes to professor Snape's most private office." Dumbledore said and looked around at the fireplace and the warm chairs with cushions. "We better not test his patience more than necessary."

And with a flick on his wand, the office suddenly looked just as gloomy and dark as before.

"I _assure_ you that I won't be long. Dumbledore guaranteed, like a parent leaving a child with a mean aunt, and left Harry to himself.

It wasn't that he was alone in Snape's creepy office that made Harry feel the most uncomfortable, but the knowledge that he didn't get to hear what they were talking about on the other side of the door. Harry's curiosity had led him to several adventures before, and even more trouble. But he did not want to miss this.

He sneaked towards the door and tried to listen trough it. But he couldn't hear anything. Either the door was too thick, or someone had cast a muffliato spell over it.

Harry pondered over what to do. He came to think of Fred and George's very useful extendable ears, but he neither had one with him, nor did he think that there were any openings in the massive door where I could let it slip in trough.

There was a chance that he might be able to open the door just slightly enough to catch something from the conversation. But he was afraid that they might notice it.

Harry wondered over what spell he could use to unnoticeable slip the door open, when he suddenly felt an involuntary shudder. Almost like his body was preparing for something…

Then something stabbed him in his scar.

Harry stuttered backwards in surprise and managed to grasp the desk to prevent himself from loosing his balance. The pain was back. The aching pounding in his scar had grown to a thundering sharp one. Harry recognized it and knew that it would keep growing to an unbearable climax. And so far, the attacks had grown worse for each time.

Harry remembered that the last one had made him faint.

He tried to ignore it, but simply couldn't. His hands flung up to the scar the same way as before in a desperate attempt to keep the pain down. He instantly recognized the sticky feeling of blood underneath his palms.

And the pain only grew worse…

His breathing became more irregular. He forced himself to be calm. Try to ignore the pain. But then it stroke back with an unbelievable strength, causing him to gasp in agony.

Harry immediately dropped to the floor, to weak by the sudden strike to keep himself up.

He didn't feel anything when he hit the stone floor. It was like all the pain in his whole body was too busy with tormenting his scar. Harry curled up in a cat-like ball, twitching and turning. He wished that he could speed this up. That it could knock him unconscious. Kill him. He didn't care.

_He just wanted it to stop!_

Harry didn't know how long it had been since Dumbledore left the room. He thought he could hear voices. He wasn't sure. He had shut his eyes tight and couldn't see if there was anyone else in the room with him. More voices. But he couldn't hear what they said. Harry tossed and turned on the cold floor. The pain was haunting him, and he tried to get away. He didn't care about what happened around him.

Strong hands suddenly grabbed both his arms and dragged him up to his feet, but his legs refused to carry him. He felt the hands lowering him down in a sitting position on the floor instead, with his back to the wall. Harry clenched his teeth and pressed his palms tightly to the scar.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

Dumbledore's voice. But Harry couldn't answer the question. He was still clenching his teeth as hard as he could because of the steadily increasing pain.

McGonagall: (worried) "Dear lord… Dumbledore, he is bleeding!"

Snape: (calmly) "Professor, allow me…"

Dumbledore: (serious) "Wait, Severus." (Harry could hear Dumbledore kneel beside him) "Harry, let me see your scar."

Harry kept his hands persistently pressed to his forehead, not moving them an inch. He struggled with the same feeling that he had felt outside the teachers' lounge. The feeling that if he let go, the pain would become worse

Dumbledore: (calmly) "Listen to me, Harry. I need to take a look at your scar. (Assuring) I promise you that it won't make it worse. Please?"

Harry still hesitated. But then he managed to take control over his mind and he carefully released his grip. He clenched his teeth even harder and he could feel a metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Though Harry still had his eyes shut, he could almost feel how Dumbledore's bright blue eyes examined his scar.

McGonagall: "Sir, are you sure that it wouldn't be a better idea to get Potter to Madame Pomfrey?"

Dumbledore: "I fear that's not an option, Minerva. It would take too much time to get him there, and I rather not take that risk. No, we have to solve this right here right now…"

McGonagall: "And what if we can't?"

The pain in Harry's scar kept building. Harry had to concentrate on not letting his hands fling up to the scar again. He started to feel a bit nauseous, which he took as a bad sign.

The pain was still growing…

Dumbledore: "We will have to try. Severus, I understand that you used "_abeodolor"_ earlier to handle this?"

Snape: "Yes, sir. But it was quite ineffective. The spell wore off much quicker than it normally should."

Dumbledore: "Despite that, I want you to use it again. The least we can do is to try to reduce some of this torture, even if it's only for a short period of time. Meanwhile, we will search for a more permanent solution."

Harry involuntarily curled up a little in his position at the sound of this. "Why Snape" he wanted to ask. Why does it have to be _him_ of all teachers on Hogwarts? He then remembered that Dumbledore had mentioned several times that no other teacher was as skilled with handling dark magic and curses as Snape. But Harry could only see that as yet another good reason to why Snape couldn't be trusted right now.

Dumbledore: (explaining) "Harry, professor Snape is going to take a look at you. There is nothing to worry about, it will soon be over."

Snape: (calmly) "My only demand is that the boy cooperates. If he could be still for more than 2 seconds, it would be much helpful…"

McGonagall: (cold threatening) "That's hardly Potter's fault, Severus! The boy is obviously in more pain than any of us can imagine!"

Snape didn't answer to this, but Harry could imagine that his two teachers right now were trying to stare each other to death.

Harry could now hear Dumbledore leave his place to Snape instead. Harry still felt quite nauseous.

Snape: (demanding) - Potter, stop squirming.

But Harry couldn't help it. The pain was growing bigger and bigger, and it made him tremble in agony.

Snape: (chilly) "Very well… At least try to keep your arms out of the way."

Harry wasn't prepared. The same second Snape's finger touched his forehead, a sharp pain hit him as lightning.

"_Don't do that_!" Harry hissed.

Harry's eyes opened at once. Snape had withdrawn his hand immediately and now eyed Harry with a hesitant look. McGonagall stared at Harry in surprise, and Dumbledore had an unusually serious look on his face. But the most surprised person of them all was Harry himself.

He had heard it.

The snakelike hissing instead of the human words that he had thought of when he opened his mouth.

No one said a word and Harry turned down his eyes, afraid to look at the others. But Dumbledore leaned closer to Harry.

"Harry, look at me." He said firmly.

Harry looked up. The throbbing pain in his scar had temporarily decreased, probably due to the sudden chock. But he knew that it would come back, and when it did, it would hit him hard.

"Harry, try to say something." Dumbledore asked.

But Harry slowly shook his head, looking terrified. He did _not_ want to open his mouth. He feared what his words would sound like. He hadn't meant to speak parsel. He had never even been able to do it before unless he had faced a real snake or something that reminded him of one.

Harry's body froze. He knew that Voldemort could speak parsel naturally.

Was Harry becoming more like… Him?

"This could be serious, Harry." Dumbledore said. "I need you to say something, just to be sure. Can you do that?"

"If I may have a suggestion…" Snape said. "A simple spell can solve this problem for us in an instant. And if Potter refuses to cooperate, well I can only assume that the boy probably enjoys all the attention…"

"Th… That's not true!" Harry said with a voice trembling with anger.

When Harry recognized his normal, human voice, he let out a sigh of relief. But he wasn't entirely sure if this had been Snape's intention all along...

Dumbledore smiled and got up to his feet, stretching out a hand to help Harry up too. Even more to Harry's relief he noticed that he could stand by himself now.

"How bad does your scar hurt now, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with a slightly worried look.

"Not that much." Harry answered rubbing his scar. "It… It's okay right now. But sir, how come that… How could that happen? I didn't even mean to speak parsel.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I don't have an answer to that." Dumbledore said apologizing. "I can only guess that your scar is currently, I don't know why, but it seems to be overreacting, or something. I'm afraid that the best theory I have is that your scar is "going nuts", if you want to put it that way. I deeply apologize that this is probably the most pitiful attempt of an explanation that I've ever tried to give you Harry..."

"But sir, do you think it's dangerous?" Harry asked. "Do you think that this can be… Somehow be caused by Voldemort?"

"I'm very sorry Harry. But I don't know that either." Dumbledore answered with a sad look. "I can only promise you that no matter what the cause might be, we will do our best to so something about it. It would be very troublesome if your tongue would get stuck on parsel… But I don't think we have to worry about that. This reminds me of a charm that many wizards and witches used to taunt muggles with in the old days. It made their faces stuck whenever the wind changed. But that was decennials ago. I don't think that I've heard of a case for over 50 years."

"Sir…?" McGonagall said stiffly. "May I remind you…"

"Oh, I'm sorry Minerva." Dumbledore apologized. "We should of course concentrate on the current matter right now."

Dumbledore turned to Snape and McGonagall.

"Severus, before our conversation was interrupted you had some ideas of different kinds of potions that might help?"

"Yes, sir." Snape answered. "But the dilemma here is that it seems like there is a possibility that they won't work properly. Just like the charm I used before... But luckily, there _are_ in fact several potions that can be used to relieve different kinds of pain or discomfort. And I believe that all of them are available here".

Snape took the book on his desk that he had looked trough before.

"But there are no guarantees that they will work?" McGonagall asked with a serious look and folded her arms.

"No." Snape answered simply, flipping through some pages.

"So are we just gonna treat the boy as a guinea pig and try every potion in your office hoping that one _might_ help?" McGonagall asked coldly.

"Hardly." Snape answered with a slightly irritated look at McGonagall before he returned to his book. "If there is one magic potion that will work, then it is this one."

Snape left the book open on the desk for the others to look and went to look for something in one of the shelves.

"Created by a French witch named Osane Claudius Douleur in 1458. It was invented to relieve the pain for wizards and witches that suffered from incurable curses…"

"But will it work on me?" Harry asked.

"Well, Potter." Snape answered without looking up. "Even if your scar happens to be ever so rare, I'm sorry to tell you that it doesn't mean that it's resistant to everything."

"I never said it was." Harry said angrily.

Snape completely ignored him and simply kept looking through the shelves after the wanted potion. Dumbledore watched Harry with a concerned look.

"How are you feeling Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm fine." Harry said, and tried to ignore a stinging sensation that had started to bother his forehead.

Harry tried to concentrate on other things. He needed to occupy his mind with something else. How many bottles there were in the office, the weird patterns of stars and planets on Dumbledore's night robe. The amount of jars with more or less creepy contents… If he could concentrate on other things, then maybe…

The pain suddenly hit him as a truck and Harry let out sharp inhale which made everyone in the room to look directly at him.

"Potter, what is it?" McGonagall asked.

Harry clenched his teeth again but forced himself to answer.

"I think…" Harry breathed as he pressed his right hand to the scar. – I... I think it's coming back..."

Harry leaned himself towards the wall as he didn't want to risk dropping to the stone floor again. Snape had stopped his search and was currently holding a small thin bottle with a purplish content.

"Severus, hurry up!" McGonagall ordered.

"This potion is only _half_ done." Snape replied bitterly. "I need runespoor blood to make this work properly."

"And why on earth is it only _half_ done?" McGonagall asked utterly frustrated.

"Because runespoor blood is quite rare, and the potion loses its effect after only two days." Snape explained as he hurried to the large cupboard and started to look through the ingredients. "Therefore it's better to add it right before you are going to _use_ the potion."

"How long does it take to mix it together?" McGonagall asked, not without looking quite worried at Harry.

Snape didn't answer. He had found the runespoor blood and was concentrating on adding the right amount of it to the potion. He then waved the bottle in circles and the once purplish liquid slowly turned dark blue.

When Snape seemed satisfied with the color, he put the ingredient back in the cupboard and went back to the others.

"I need you to tilt your head backwards, Potter." Snape demanded and opened the bottle.

"I don't think so…" Harry mumbled while trying his best to talk despite the intensively growing pain.

"You _don't_ have a choice, Potter." Snape said strictly. "Unlike most potions, this particular one is not meant to be drinked. It must be applied directly on the source of the pain. So whether you like it or not, it's either this, or we will probably be forced to port you directly to St Mungo's Hospital."

Harry couldn't help but get a cold feeling in his stomach at the thought of being transported to the wizards' hospital St Mungos. He had never been there, and he had no plans to visit the place as a patient.

Eventually he did as he was told. He sat down on a simple chair beside the desk and lowered his head backwards. But he didn't like the feeling that Dumbledore and McGonagall held him firmly in place. Like if they expected Harry to run away.

Snape was holding the bottle about 15 centimeters above Harry's scar and then let one drop fall.

The same second it hit Harry, he flinched immediately at the terrible heat that was burning right through his skin. He tried to jerk away, but couldn't move.

Second drop.

Harry shook his head and tried to get away from the painful liquid. Didn't want it to touch his scar again...

Third drop.

Harry made a sharp inhale. He tensed up his whole body in a desperate attempt to protect himself. Glowing iron would probably feel enjoyable compared to this.

Fourth drop.

He clenched his teeth as hard he could and shut his eyes. Trying to force the burning pain away with his mind.

Harry tried to prepare himself for the next tormenting drop, but it didn't come. Instead, Harry felt how the burning sensation started to fade away. And as it slowly disappeared, he could also notice that the excruciating pain in his scar went the same way.

The process was slow, and Harry could feel that the earlier pain was being replaced by an unbelievable exhaustion. Eventually, Harry could barely keep his eyes open. He tried to stand up, but the fatigue overtook him and he fell right into Dumbledore's arms. Too tired to try and stand again, Harry simply remained there. Completely worn out, like if he had run 50 miles and not slept in a week.

"Is there anything we can give him for the fatigue…?" McGonagall said, but Dumbledore interrupted.

"I think it would be more merciful if we let Harry sleep for now." Dumbledore said. "Considering everything he has been through this evening, it would feel rather cruel to deny him it. Especially since we also in a way have contributed to it…"

Harry felt how Dumbledore lifted him with a surprising strength. He was just barely conscious now, but could still hear them.

Dumbledore: "McGonagall and I will take Harry to the hospital wing. (Cheerfully) Thank you very much for your help tonight, Severus. I'm very impressed with all your efforts."

Snape: (mutters something incoherent)

Harry couldn't hear Dumbledore's reply as he was falling deeper and deeper into a nothingness that he right now didn't want to wake up from.

*******

**There! All done. And now I _really_ don't have a clue how to go on. So, I think this is pretty much the last chapter. (Unless I wake up one night with the ultimate conclusion, but that probably ain't gonna happen...^^)  
**** I'm truly sorry if this is a super-crappy ending... And if it doesn't explain anything... But the best answer I got so far for Harry's scar acting this strange is that it was a temporarily... well, you could call it "glitching". Nothing that really caused it. It just happened.  
**** Unless I come to think of something good, and then I could add a third chapter.  
**** Till then, I think I must attend to my other stories for now. If anyone has ANY kind of suggestions on how to make this better, or even ideas of a third chapter, you're more than welcome to tell me. ;)  
Thank you guys. You rock! d(^^)b**


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